


Katharsis

by OneShotRevolt



Category: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mild Horror, excessive angst because this is Scorpion, spiritual journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6180379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotRevolt/pseuds/OneShotRevolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo Hasashi's soul has burnt with vengeance and been tortured with the death of his clan for so long, that freedom from the Netherrealm has not brought him freedom from himself. Grandmaster Kuai Liang must test the very limits of his patience and endurance if he wishes to help his old enemy conquer his last inner demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire Melts Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: part way through MKX
> 
> Shortly after the defeat of Quan Chi, Scorpion and Sub-Zero have been returned from revenent states to the living. Sub-Zero has challenged Sektor for leadership of the Lin Kuei and defeated him. He now works to try and mend the Lin Kuei of their old corruption. Scorpion's time has not been so productive...

New, softly falling snow covered his tracks almost as fast as he made them. He hesitated in his path now and again, allowing the crunch of his footsteps to cease and the silence to reconvene. When he breathed, he saw the air form slight clouds. He marvelled at this. He had forgotten breathing could be beautiful. The cold caused him to shiver. Not for the first time on this trek did he long for an inner fire to warm his chilled skin. He trudged on.  
  
Steep mountain sides were crusted with deep snow. Sunk in the valley before him were the stacked, curved roofs of the Lin Kuei temple. He body quivered but this time not just with the cold. Even the idea of setting foot in this place stoked rage from the pits of his new found soul. Under the cover of the growing darkness he started towards the snow steeped temple.  
  
\---  
  
Kuai Liang awoke with a sudden start. For a moment all was dark and he was left only with a prickling sensation in his spine that all was not well. He sat up in the covers of his pallet and froze. Crouched on the other side of his room and lit only by the half light of the moon streaming through an open window was his nemesis. All the muscles in his body tensed. His eyes locked upon his enemy’s, and he studied them for the first time without the burn of hellfire behind them. Scorpion crouched, ready to leap, his kunai wrapped around one arm ready, katana pointed straight forward. Once Kuai had collected himself and studied his opponent, he saw the defensive curl in the other’s posture, the hunted, corned look in his eyes and the heard the frustration in his breathing.  
  
“Hanzo...?” He ventured cautiously.  
  
“Do not speak that name!” The reply was as venomous as usual and muffled behind the hannya mask obstructing the lower half of his face. He did not move however, Kuai noted.  
  
“Do the Shirai Ryu have so little honour that they would attack their opponents while they sleep?”  
  
The shinobi leapt up,  
  
“You dare speak of honour to me, Lin Kuei dog!? You dare after all your clan have done!? I should never have come! It was too much to think a Lin Kuei would find honour after all these years!” He moved to attack. Kuai sat still in his bed, legs folded calmly.  
  
“So you did get my message. I sent word over a year ago, Hanzo. Why do you come to me now in the middle of the night?”  
  
Scorpion stopped where he stood, katana raised to strike and kunai pulled back to release. His breathing was laboured behind the mask.  
  
“What I do is none of your concern.”  
  
The weapons were drooping though, Kuai was glad of that at least. Kuai narrowed his eyes and looked harder at his enemy. Now that he stood in the moonlight, he could see a haggard look in his face, and dark rings beneath his eyes.  
  
“You do not look well.”  
  
Scorpion snarled and retracted into the shadows. He dropped one arm to his side but pointed his katana forward.  
  
“Speak, Sub-Zero! I mean to depart this place as soon as I can.”  
  
“Now? Here? Can we at least do this in a more civilised fashion?”  
  
“So that you can summon all your Lin Kuei mongrels and have me watched and surrounded? I think not!” Scorpion glanced through the open window then round at the paper walls of the room. His head twisted this way and that as if trying to see into every shadow.  
  
“I invited you here as my guest, Hanzo. The Lin Kuei will not harm you.”  
  
“Forgive me if it sounds like I do not trust you.” Now that the man before him was free of his servitude to the Netherrealm, Kuai thought he could hear all the layers of hatred and suffering behind the sarcasm in that voice.  
  
“Walk with me, Hanzo. Let me put on something warmer, and walk with me beyond the temple grounds.”  
  
“You mean to deceive me!” He was a wildcat hunched into the corner again.  
  
Kuai ignored him. He got up and with great difficulty turned his back on the spitting, tortured paranoia of the other assassin. He knelt before a wooden draw and drew from it his blue garb. He unfolded it and donned it slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. When he had finished dressing himself he turned back to Scorpion.  
  
“Will you insist on exitting through the window or may I lead you through my front door?” He tried to keep the irony from his voice, knowing it would only send his old enemy into another rage. As he had hoped, the man’s furious pride forced him to follow Kuai through the wooden passages and out into the courtyard. He was troubled by the hounded, fraught movements of his guest however. He had hoped that release from Quan Chi’s control would bring the Shirai Ryu warrior peace, at it had in many ways himself. Instead he seemed to have retained many qualities Kuai thought had belonged to the spectre and not the man.  
  
They walked out beneath the crossbeamed wooden archway and out into the snow scudded valley. Black clouds moved over the half smile of the moon and loaned the night increasing shadows. Neither spoke as they walked. Kuai took them up one of the old paths that bent up the steep slopes and navigated them between knife tooth rocks and gnarled leafless trees.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” His bitter guest grated.  
  
“Only a little further. There is an old shrine at the end of this path. It is quiet there, and sheltered. It will be a good place to talk.”  
  
“This had better be worth my time.” Some of the fire had left his voice with the exertion of the climb and the plummet of the temperature.  
  
Nothing like a little cold to cool off Scorpion’s temper. He thought to himself. He kept this unhelpful reflection to himself.  
  
The path curled into a natural hollow in the cliff face. The rock leant over the ancient remains of a small stone statue, too weathered to retain its features. Here, Kuai sat and looked out over the valley in its bleak monotone shades. In the corner of his eye he saw Scorpion stalk back and forth, trying to work out if he should sit or stand for this long-anticipated meeting. Kuai kept his gaze on the valley until his guest had dropped himself on a low carved stone seat. Then he turned.  
  
“I do not know what you have heard from others, Hanzo, but regardless I wish you to hear this from my mouth, here and now.”  
  
“All I want to hear from your mouth is confirmation that the Lin Kuei name is mud.” The familiar hostility sounded a little forced and tired.  
  
Kuai tilted his head,  
  
“It is true my clan has had a dark past. I do not deny that. I am trying to amend that now though, and reforge our name again.” There was a pause, “I think you know what I wish to say, Hanzo. You know that the Lin Kuei are not responsible for the death of your clan.”  
  
The man before him flinched. It was too dark to see his face. Kuai continued,  
  
“The suffering inflicted on you was not done by our hand. You were deceived in this. Quan Chi-”  
  
Scorpion leapt from his seat. Kuai tensed, instinctively feeling the rush of the cold flow to his fists as he readied his defence. Scorpion stalked the ground before the shrine seething through his mask.  
  
“I know!” He spat, “I know!” Kuai failed to understand how every advance in conversation managed to make Scorpion even more enraged. Surely the man must have a limit to how furious he could be. He carefully continued when it became clear that Scorpion was going to keep pacing and hissing.  
  
“Quan Chi came to you in the wake of everything and fed on your hatred and grief. What happened and what you became is on him, and not the Lin Kuei.”  
  
“I know!” He sounded more angry still.  
  
Kuai regarded him. This was not how had hoped this discussion would go.  
  
“Well... in light of this, Hanzo, I thought we could put away some of our old animosity... and that this might set some things to right between our clans.”  
  
“Set to right?! What about this is set to right?! What about this dispels animosity! To know that everything in the past was deception and lies!? To know that my family are unavenged while Quan Chi is untouchable in the Netherrealm? That the first time I want to go to that place is the only time it is impossible for me?! To know that Bi-Han died for nothing!? That I gave up everything, my very soul, for nothing!? What about this is set to right, Kuai Liang?!”  
  
In this tirade one thing in particular struck Kuai as peculiar.  
  
“You... regret Bi-Han’s death?”  
  
“I did not say that! As if I would every feel guilty for killing any Lin Kuei dog!”  
  
Kuai looked at him. Scorpion clawed his mask off in frustration. His hair fell loose about him and a wild stubble was on his chin. It was easier to extend empathy to his nemesis with that human interior exposed.  
  
“Quan Chi is to blame for Bi-Han’s death, not you.”  
  
“It was my hands that did it! You Lin Kuei are truly honourless if you cannot see that your own brother-”  
  
“Hanzo.” Kuai said firmly. The shinobi stopped pacing and turned.  
  
“I told you... not to call me that.”  
  
“Hanzo Hasashi did not kill my brother. You have suffered enough without taking another soul onto your conscience.”  
  
His enemy was breathing hard and trying to calm his temper. His eyes were dark and suspicious.  
  
“If you knew of all this already, then why did you come here?” Kuai shook his head, “You knew what I wished to say to you.”  
  
“I know nothing of the thoughts of a Lin-”  
  
“What is it that you wanted?”  
  
There was silence. The snow had begun to fall again. Kuai waited. There was some kind of inner turmoil being weighed in the other man’s mind. After a long while Scorpion turned his back to him.  
  
“Where else was I meant to go?!” He managed even to make this sound hateful, “I cannot get to Quan Chi. My clan are all dead! Everything that is meant to be dead is alive and everything that was meant to live... is dead. And I can do nothing. I longed to be rid my chains and become human again, and now that I am, I am nothing but weak! I cannot avenge my people! You served under Quan Chi for almost no time. Everyone remembers Sub-Zero and what he did for Earthrealm. All that is remembered of Scorpion is a hellfire demon! Sometimes I wish that fate back! There is so much I did not recall about humanity – I cannot travel as I please – and I must eat and... sleep. A Netherrealm creature has no dreams, Sub-Zero! A Netherrealm creature has no nightmares.” He was still turned away.  
  
“Han-”  
  
“Why is it I cannot even recall their faces in my sleep!? What is wrong with me!?”  
  
There was silence. The snow fell heavily between them.  
  
“I did not mean to say that. I will go now.”  
  
“No.”  Kuai got to his feet, “You were right to come here. Do not go.”  
  
“And how do you mean to stop me?” Scorpion turned, voice all cold sneer.  
  
“I mean to ask you. Stay here with us at the Lin Kuei temple. I can help you.”  
  
“Do you think me mad?”   
  
Kuai dodged answering that,  
  
“I told you before, as my guest you will come to no harm.”  
  
“Sektor is not even a year dead, Sub-Zero. You are a fool if you think your Lin Kuei pets will extend their loyalty to you for my sake. A Shirai Ryu amongst them? I’d be disappointed if I wasn’t poisoned in the first week. And believe me, I have no intention of dying any time soon. Quan Chi’s probably waiting for the moment someone finishes off my short spate in Earthrealm.” His words were said in black humour, but his body shuddered involuntarily.  
  
Kuai was loathe to admit there might be some foundation in that fear,  
  
“Then come with me. I know of a remote old shrine used by monks in ages past. We can spend some time in the temple there. It is isolated and easily defensible. I can help you work through this and build your life again, Hanzo.”  
  
“You cannot help me, Sub-Zero. I wouldn’t trust you the distance I could spit at you. Deceiving Hanzo Hasashi seems to be a rite of passage in everyone’s life. I was a fool not to see that before. Not again! Not this time. No one will be able to manipulate me ever again, because I will never trust and I will never make the mistake of holding things dear that can be ripped from me. Goodbye.” He turned to the path.  
  
“Hanzo.”  
  
“Don’t Hanzo me.” Scorpion looked back. Kuai had moved from the stone he had been seated on to kneel in the snow. “What is this?” Scorpion snarled.  
  
“You may not trust me. But I trust the man you used to be. If you truly believe me to be your enemy, kill me.”  
  
“You sorely tempt me. You do not know me at all if you think to speak to me this way.”  
  
“Do it.”  
  
Scorpion drew a knife from his belt lightening fast. He pressed the blade to Kuai’s throat.  
  
“The man I used to be is dead. Dead along with everything else.” Scorpion locked his stare onto those still, unmoveable, glacier eyes.  
  
“Then get a move on. Do it. Kill me. What are you waiting for? Lost your nerve?”  
  
“Do not mock me, Lin Kuei! I only delay... because I will not kill you with a blade but with my own hands. I will squeeze the life from your proud neck.” Scorpion tossed the knife and seized Kuai’s throat. His fingers tightened and he pressed his thumb into the wind pipe. Still Kuai did not move. Scorpion saw his victim’s eyes twitch as he squeezed harder. He felt the pound of a heartbeat pulse through his fingers, skin warm with life beneath his hand. He had forgotten what skin felt like, what a heartbeat felt like, fragile in his hands. He paused in the pressure he asserted. The uncertainty caused him to falter. He reached for the fallen knife. Better to do this without that feeling of human contact. As he turned the blade over he looked at it. It was his wakazashi, a samurai’s honour.  
  
He relinquished his grip. He barely heard the thirsty draw of air Kuai reached for. Instead he looked only at the blade. He wondered what had become of him that he could draw this against one who knelt unarmed and offered him aid. He sheathed it and swallowed. He did not know what words he could say to explain those thoughts just then. He was forever thankful that Kuai did not require any of him.  
  
Kuai got up. He ran a hand about his neck cooling it with the frost that ran so naturally through his fingers.  
  
“Wait here for me. I will set my affairs in order and bring provisions for our journey. I will come to this place at dusk tomorrow. Be ready.”  
  
Kuai Liang begun a steady pace back down to the temple.


	2. Deception

The snow had fallen steadily every day. At first he had sickened of its constant cold embrace and eternal white glare. The longer he spent amidst the bleak landscape however, the more he found its blank emptiness soothing to his tortured mind. Thin trees marked the scene like long ink brushes on plain paper. Even the shadows seemed soft on snow drifts. There was no line that divided the sky from the earth, only the occasional heads of dark mountain peaks.  
  
He and Kuai Liang passed almost all the time in silence. Scorpion was glad for this. The silence mended some of his constant anxiety that had possessed him since he first set foot in Lin Kuei territory. By night he would sit upright against a tree and watch until he was sure Kuai was asleep. Only then would he jolt in and out a vague rest that he permitted himself instead of sleep. He fatigued quickly on these faint clutches of rest but was loathe to ever say so. Kuai Liang always stopped them just before he was too tired to walk. Scorpion would make a show of collecting firewood and trying not to collapse with exhaustion lest his old enemy see his weakness and suddenly take it upon himself to settle that ancient feud once and for all. Kuai seemed to possess a quiet stillness befitting his affinity with the serene winter. His movements were always steady and fluid, his gaze directed at his task, never judging or sizing up his companion. Scorpion had almost begun to believe that perhaps the Lin Kuei assassin meant to keep his promises, but then they reached their destination.  
  
\--  
  
Kuai had visited the shrine only in solitude before. It was something of a private place for him. He had always kept its existence from the Lin Kuei, desiring to keep this only vestige of privacy close to him. It was here that he had come after Bi-Han’s death, and decided to take up that same name, Sub-Zero. Memories of solace, and gradual, painfully acquired peace shrouded this place. He had thought of it immediately on meeting the resurrected Scorpion. This was someone in sore need of it.  
  
The shrine was located in a sturdy but simple wood building set in the middle of a great, frozen lake. It’s span was wide, bereft and harsh. Tucked into its banks were the thick shuffling, vigilant fir trees. Tall grey mountains reached into the distance, their stray spurs sending rolling silver mists through the forests. He smiled on seeing its stark beauty and turned to Scorpion. His face fell.  
  
“What!? What is this treachery!?” Scorpion was recoiling from the scene. His half mask was back on his face, keeping out the cold and no doubt keeping his eternal inner anguish in.  
  
Kuai looked back at the shrine then to Scorpion again, he shook his head, genuinely perplexed as to what the shinobi could possibly be objecting to.  
  
“What... what is it now, Hanzo?” He tried to keep a slight testiness from his voice.  
  
“You mean to imprison me! I am done with prisons, Sub-Zero! I have broken free of the Netherrealm, you were cunning to lead me to this place, but it ends here!”  
  
“Hanzo, what-” Kuai drew his breath in sharply as he turned his body side on. Scorpion’s kunai shot past him so quickly he heard the air snap with the speed. “This is madness! Stop this!”   
  
Scorpion drew his katana and charged,  
  
“A lake of ice, Sub-Zero?! Do you think me so naïve!” He sliced diagonally down at Kuai. Kuai dropped to the floor and struck out with a low kick as the katana sailed over his head. Scorpion stumbled and before he could right himself Kuai kicked out at his other leg sending his opponent falling over backwards. Scorpion twisted as he fell, landing on his hands and feet, prone on the floor.  
  
“It not a prison, Hanzo.” Kuai was truly exasperated now. It took all his patience not to summon ice to stop Scorpion. There would be no convincing him if he resorted to that.  
  
“Ice you manipulate?” Scorpion rolled forward and brought down his katana. Kuai blocked the blade between the flat of his armoured forearms. “Ice you control? And how convenient that it is now beyond me to summon the flames of Netherrealm.”  
  
“Hanzo, see reason! You are your own worst enemy! Why must you be so insufferable!?” Kuai blocked another katana swing with his arms, crossed them over the top of the blade and pushed it down. He jabbed a swift uppercut straight into Scorpion’s gargoyle mask. “It was much easier to be your enemy than to be your ally!”  
  
“More Lin Kuei lies!” Scorpion shook his head after the punch, then brought it down to crack his forehead into Kuai’s nose. He used Kuai’s flinch to draw his katana out of the fray and to realign for another attack.  
  
“You are really starting to-” Kuai summoned ice to his fists. With a roar his clenched his grip tighter. Ice collected as a vicious spreading frost. It danced up his forearms, across his torso, up to his head and down his legs. The fractals hardened and continued to grow until Kuai had wrapped himself in a two foot thick block of ice.  
  
\--  
  
“No you don’t! Get over here!”  
  
Scorpion shot his kunai from his wrist. The pointed tip pierced the first inch of ice. Three small cracks appeared momentarily, then sealed over. He pulled the spear tip back. It stuck fast. He wrenched at it. It was frozen into the block. He swore and took his katana to it. The hard ice ricocheted, vibrating through the blade and shuddering up his arms. He low tackled it, overarm punched it, elbowed it, drove his knee through it, punched it, side kicked it, front kicked it, overhead kicked it. Each time the ice fractured even fractionally the cracks frosted over and solidified again.  
  
“Damn you! Fight me, Sub-Zero! Fight me, you Lin Kuei coward!” He stalked round the block, looking for weakness in the ice.  
  
His violent fury ran its course over the next half hour. Eventually he sat down cross-legged and looked across the lake.  
  
It was another half an hour until he heard the slow thaw and crack of ice. He did not look up. Kuai Liang sat down beside him. They watched the snow fall on the perfect flat of the lake.  
  
“I realise now a lake of ice may be discomforting to you.”  
  
Scorpion gave a short, mirthless laugh.  
  
“We do not have to go if you do not wish. We can stay on the edge of the lake.”  
  
“And freeze to death in this arctic wilderness you’ve brought me to? Looks like you win either way.”  
  
Kuai let out a long sigh and brought his arms over his head. Scorpion started at this uncharacteristic display of emotion. He tried to see this from Kuai’s perspective. If the Lin Kuei warrior truly meant him no harm, this would be somewhat infuriating behaviour on his own part.  
  
“I’ll go.” He said, even though all his instincts backed away from the suicidal position he was placing himself in.  
  
\--  
  
Kuai looked up, he nodded slowly. He stood and picked up Scorpion’s kunai. He wound the chain and dropped it beside him. He picked his pack up and walked easily across the ice lake. He knew better than to look back either to see if Scorpion followed or how he faired on the unstable crossing.  
  
He stepped up onto the wooden platform set in the centre of the lake ice. He pushed open a slatted door in the old grey pine walls. He set about laying out bedding and piling up provisions in a corner. He lit a small candle in the enclave of the shrine and sat cross legged before it. He breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location of this chapter and those to follow comes from Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring. Instead of getting on with real life I have written three more chapters after this one, so something of a regular update on this story is going to be happening over the course of the next week. Any comments or thoughts are always very welcome!
> 
> This website let me put things like basic line breaks into the formatting. What a relief :/ And notes that don't have to be stuck to the submitted text. 4 days with an account on ff.net and this place is already looking much more bearable!


	3. Vengeance

Kuai Liang awoke with the first rays of dawn. He took an armful of brush wood and pushed open the door. He sat on the platform and drank in the sight of the wide frozen lake coated in a layer of unadulterated snow. He began to build the base of a fire, selecting the smallest fast burning twigs and building up a steeped tent of larger wood over and around it. He undertook the task slowly with meditative repetition. He reached for a pouch in which he kept two flints. He struck them together, urging the reluctant sparks to the centre of his construction. A light wind stole away his effort before it hit the wood. He sighed and persisted in his attempts. It was thus that Scorpion found him when he rose.

 The first thing Kuai noted was that Scorpion had forgone the grey robes Kuai had laid out. In a vague attempt to at least aesthetically set aside clan differences, Kuai had put away his Lin Kuei uniform and donned a plain cotton robe kept in the shrine. He had hoped Scorpion might see the wisdom of this of his own accord. Scorpion came out in his glaring yellow Shirai Ryu outfit.

 “Can you do this.” Kuai said as he approached. He was grim faced as he said it, knowing that his difficulty would not be missed as amusing.

 “What are you doing?” Scorpion barely kept the amused mockery from his voice.

 “I was – clearly – trying to light a fire. But if you would take over, I can go and prepare the tea leaves.”

 “Use metal and flint.”

 “I’m not in the habit of keeping steel on me.” Of all the people he had to remind that he constructed almost all his weaponry out of summoned ice... He could feel Scorpion enjoying the awkward exchange. It was an improvement on trying to impale him, he supposed.

 Scorpion flipped a knife from his belt. Kuai watched it warily.

 “Like this.” Scorpion was drawing this out in a laboured and overly simplistic manner. He dashed the flint against his knife. “Then blow on the sparks, like so.”

 “Hanzo-”

 “Taking _extra_ special care not to accidentally breathe ice all over your newly born flaming wonder.”

 “Shut up. Out my way, I need to get past.”

 “And look, fire summoned by the hand of a mere mortal. No inter-dimensional help needed.”

 “You’re insufferable.”

 Kuai retreated back into the shrine. He took his time over preparing the leaves and retrieving the tea set. When he returned Scorpion had small inferno going. Seeing the flames reflected in his eyes brought Kuai some unpleasant memories. He set down the cups and pot, and balled his hand into a fist, ready to fill a thin copper pail with ice.

 “Let me.” Scorpion took the pail and bent over the edge of the platform. He skimmed the fresh snow with his knife into the bucket. He nestled it into the flames where the snow melted into clear pure water. Kuai raised an eyebrow but sat back without complaint.

 They waited for the water to warm.

 Scorpion folded his arms over his knees,

 “How did you find this place?”

 Kuai narrowed his eyes as he looked out.,

 “Stumbled across it as a child.”

 “A little far from the temple for that, isn’t it?”

 “I say stumble...I more... I ran away.”

 “From the Lin Kuei? I heard they deal somewhat unpleasantly with deserters.”

 “Well... I didn’t make a habit of running away – they saw to that.”

 “Why did you do it?”

 “Run away?” Kuai’s cheeks tinged pink. “Why does a child do anything?” he said evasively. Scorpion was unimpressed. “Very well. Because my brother was always pushing the boundaries of clan discipline and, hard though it may seem to believe, I once was enamoured with every ridiculous idea he ever came up with.” A shadow fell over Scorpion’s face. Kuai regretted bringing up Bi-Han. “Anyway, to best him or perhaps to impress him, I decided to see how far I could get from the temple. Only... it became more than that. It was winter then as it is now and I easily covered my tracks with a little frost. Running was... liberating. The freedom of being amidst this,” he gestured all about them, “... this great silence. When I first saw this place I thought perhaps I had found a haven of gods and spirits. It seemed like such a precious secret that I turned back and went home, lest they find this place as they searched for me.”

“To a no doubt warm welcome.” Scorpion seemed to be making an effort not to linger on the topic of Bi-Han.

 “It was worth it in my mind. Still is, as a matter of fact.”

 Scorpion nodded,

 “It is a beautiful place.”

 Kuai’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced sidelong at Scorpion.

 “What?” Scorpion dipped a finger into the water and withdrew it quickly.

 “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

 “That was not my fault yesterday.” The both held a momentary silence as Scorpion poured the water over the outside of the teapot and cups, warming the clay. Kuai then lifted the lid of the teapot. Scorpion poured the warmed water within. This done, Scorpion continued, “I was reasonably concerned as to why you’d brought me to an ice island.”

 “I can’t even begin to think what you thought I was doing. Why would I bother to go to such contrived lengths to kill you?”

 “Trap me maybe, hand me over to Netherrealm for a fair price?”

 Kuai was not sure if that was meant to be in jest, but it hurt either way. He tilted his face away slightly.

 “Even having served only for a short time, I would not wish the fate of Quan Chi’s servant on anyone.” He said gruffly.

 Scorpion was silent.

 Kuai turned to look at him. There was an old, distant, measured and calculating look in Scorpion’s eye. Kuai cursed himself for mentioning the sorcerer’s name. Scorpion was gone, lost in his mind where he no doubt plotted endless revenge. Kuai poured tea into two cups the size of half egg shells.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter submitted because someone liked what has been posted so far :) Also I'm perplexed as to why these notes are stacking chapter on chapter, so I'll keep these notes short.


	4. Guilt

That night, Scorpion decided to sleep. He reluctantly let go of the furtive anger that kept him watching for deception at any moment and let rest take him. He felt his limbs slip into a peace that he had no recollection of ever feeling before. A sensation came over him like drifting down into a dark lake, pleasantly cool after endless, burning flames. He sighed and slept.

It had been winter then as well. Winter as they died. On every face there was only surprise. Mouths forever frozen open in the eternal question: where were you, Hanzo Hasashi? A thin layer of frost set across their features – thin enough to read the agony – thick enough to obscure the details of their precious, unique shapes forever. Turning, turning in every direction as each new sight broke him open. Kana with lips painted red and white, a luxury she rarely partook of, and a handcarved pin still placed perfectly in her hair. Jubei tossed to one side, an eternal rag doll with a thousand hours of a father's care lost in a mind that would not learn again. He had no tears to shed, no sound to make, no thoughts to think, only a last prayer of gratitude just then as a spear of ice took him through his heart and allowed him to join them.

Then darkness.

Darkness and

Whispers. Whispers and the offer to let it out. Everything that possessed him in that moment of death. Grief like tidal waves, fury like volcanoes, the long scream for vengeance. A chance to continually live in the agony of that moment and avenge what had been done.

Resurrection as a howling phoenix with insides ripped out burning only with unsated fire. Alive in death with only the anguish of loss and incalculable hatred. Single-minded consuming flames coursing through the shell of his body. A face burnt down the bone and strangled in the fury of an inferno. All this concentrated only on revenge – revenge for what could never be again.

It had been winter as they died. Frozen faces remote and distant, unrecognisably kin next to his own flaming skull. Their eyes frozen in the last moments of life, his burning with rekindled death. They would not know him, even if they lived. Their bodies always strewn in his thoughts – a frozen village always incarnate in his mind. The position of their corpses more familiar to him than himself. This time an addition that does not belong here. It was never in this picture. He leans over and looks into the face of his enemy. Bi-Han. The focal point for a lifetime of undead, enslaved vengeance. Another body in this place of his regrets. His guilt. On his murderer's hands there are only the flames of destruction. Vengeance still unquenched, agony still boiling with unburied grief. Tearing at him through all his death and his new life. A soul returned but torn in two. Unmended and belonging to another realm. The place where demons fuelled with hatred bow to one master.

White hands shoot through the cracks of a lake of ice. White hands tattooed blood red. They grasp his ankles with the firm grip of inevitability. He wrenches away but they are tight as fate. They begin to drag him through the ice. He falls and thrashes, nails clawing at the ice. Beneath his palms he sees through the frosted mirror of the lake. Below the surface, faces float. One has lips painted red. He screams as the hands drag him down into the deadly cold. He plunges into the crystal clear clammy cold. The broken bodies of the Shirai Ryu turn aimlessly in the water. Their mouths are still open with that eternal question: where were you, Hanzo Hasashi? Kana's face is indistinguishable in the encroaching dark. Her body bobs closer to him. In a matter of fact voice she says to him,

It is best this way, Hanzo. You belong with them. You belong in the place of monstrosities and hatred. You live no more now than you did in death.

He sees the small form of his child alone in the dark water. He reaches for him, but Kana says,

Leave him, Hanzo. Leave him as you did before. You are to weak to help him. Go back to where you belong.

He looks down to where the white hands are dragging him deeper. Quan Chi's face is smiling at him. The red and white of his skin stand out strong against the oncoming blackness.

He looks up. The crack in the ice where he fell through is a distant splinter of light. He screams as it gets smaller.

He breaks from his sleep with bursting violence and the sound of his own screaming still sounding in his ears. The grip of his nightmare is still tight about him. He thrashes against it, wild brutality fuelling his assault. He cannot hear, he cannot think. He can see only two still blue eyes. He locks onto them and pours his own torment through the windows of his own. The solace of that unruptureable solid quiet touches the fire within him. He can feel a coolness on his forehead. A chill chases through the heat of his explosive limbs. He breathes easier. The clear features on the face above him are carved into concern. He lets himself fall into stillness, trusting in this new safety. He sleeps once more.

This time it is dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of this is based on MK Legacy as their depiction of the village massacre struck me as particularly beautiful and horrific. As may or may not be becoming clear - these chapters are named after each of the struggles that Hanzo is dealing with.


	5. Grief

The rice steamed faint trails into the late morning. Kuai Liang led ice through his fingertips and shaped it into a thin blade. He sliced spring onions into slight circles and let them drop into the pot. He crushed fennel seeds and let them fall into the heat. He stirred with a wooden spoon.

Hanzo pushed open the door. He sheltered his eyes from the bright white. He was dressed in a plain cotton grey garment. He stood blinking in the light.

Kuai kept his attention on the pot. He reached for a small bowl, blue painted with spring blossom. He filled it with freshly cooked rice. He sanded chopsticks against each other and stood them in the dish. He lifted the offering to Hanzo. It was received silently.

They ate side by side, content to watch the brisk breeze shake melodies from icicles hanging from the branches of tall conifers on the bank. Kuai saw Hanzo’s eyes rest on the grey shoulder of mountain, half lost in mist.

“Shall we climb it today?”

Hanzo looked at him. Kuai saw that his expression was stern and harried, but some of the tormented energy was gone from him.

Hanzo looked out again, then nodded. He finished the rice in his bowl.

–

Kuai turned his face into the cold wind. He let its buffeting breeze knock fresh feeling into his thoughts. The hard climb burned warmth into his muscles and pressed joy into his chest. Renewed in peace and eager to walk harder and faster, he strengthened his pace. The slope got steeper. He kicked his toes into the snow and sealed his footholds with ice to keep them firm. Exhilaration urged him on and up. He froze handholds into the cliff face as he climbed. He kept his body close to the sheer side of the mountain, sharing its affinity for winter. He pulled himself onto a high shelf stacked into the steep cliff. The ruffle of pines moved as a sea far below. The frozen lake caught the fractured light of the sun. The shrine was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He looked back the way to see if he could see Hanzo.

For him the climb was a wild expression of freedom. He knew it would not be the same for Hanzo. He saw now the bent black back of his figure struggling against the bitter wind and steep slope. It was a struggle that was clearly not just external. His fight was an uphill battle that he still needed to conquer. Kuai watched him with sadness. His companion beat flakes out of his eyes with a hand and swiped snow from the rockface with an arm. His feet kept slipping back in the ice and snow, sending him further back than he got forward. Kuai heard his curse carry in the wind. He saw him pull back his fist fast to his hip, the movement made Kuai flinch instinctively. He had fought the shinobi enough times to see that tell tale sign. Hanzo launched his kunai at an ice overhang above him. It stuck fast. He pulled it taut and scaled the sheer face with its aid. Kuai watched him ascend. When he reached the overhang he swung out on the chain, pushing himself into a crevice and using the angles in the rock to avoid the ice. He pulled his kunai free and shot it forth from him again. Kuai shook his head slightly.

Hanzo kept climbing long after he passed Kuai’s perch. Kuai let him go on alone. He sat and waited, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. He let his thoughts and concerns be snatched away by the snapping wind.

It was much later in the afternoon when he was moved from his meditation by the sound of his companion. After watching his abseiling descent for a few moments, Kuai set off once more, matching his pace. They met up again on the round shoulder of the fell where walking was again possible. Hanzo’s face was pinched and rough from the fierce cold and the taxation of his exploits. He closed his eyes momentarily and breathed deep when the fringe of the forest broke the constant gusts of the wind.

Kuai left him at the lake ice to make his careful steps across it. He himself strode easily and unaided, the prickle of ice fractals fixing friction into the slippery surface. He built up the wood for a fire, but left off lighting it. He went inside to select provisions for a meal. By the time he came back out Hanzo was sitting, warming his hands by crackling flames and looking up at the peak they had climbed.

They prepared food together and boiled it over the fire. They shared tea made in the fashion of each other’s culture.

When they had eaten and sat drinking the remains of the cooling tea, Hanzo spoke.

“My wife, Kana, would have liked it here very much.”

Kuai kept his hands still to hide his surprise.

“She liked the winter months. She had many haiku for them that she had memorised from childhood. She taught them to our son, and he would sing them to our guests.” Hanzo sipped his tea.

Kuai kept his silence, not trusting himself to not to disturb this recollection.

“Did you ever bring Bi-Han here?”

Kuai tensed. Hanzo seemed not to notice.

“No.”

“A pity. This place would have been good for him.”

“He was too far twisted to have time for peace.”

“So was I.”

Kuai looked at him. He was calm in his grey robes. His hair was long, thin and flyaway. He had trimmed his beard. His hands were folded around the small tea cup. Kuai could hardly believe this was the same creature that had returned from the Netherrealm in a flash of hellfire, holding high his brother’s skull still connect to his charred spine.

“I used to like listening to her repeat them in the dark.” Hanzo looked over at Kuai, “The haiku.” He clarified, “But they were always sad – the winter ones. They would start off beautiful, but always be about the cold, the hungry, the poor. I never much liked the desolation they evoked. She said winter was the month of truth because it brought out the worst in us.”

“She sounds like a very wise woman.” Kuai said carefully.

“She was.” He nodded slowly and looked away again, “She was.”

Kuai sipped at his tea cup even though it was empty.

“I dreamed of her last night.”

Kuai stayed very still. There was silence. It was thick and burdensome to Kuai and he wished Hanzo would break it. He kept his eyes averted and clenched his jaw down. He did not know how much of this morning Hanzo remembered.

“Thank you.” The words sounded alien on Hanzo’s tongue. “For your... aid. I am sorry you had to see... that weakness.”

Kuai cursed inwardly that Hanzo had to make this so difficult. He had been happy to forget the incident or else have a plain conversation about overcoming troubles that haunt the mind. Trust Hanzo to make this about honour and propriety. He glanced up and realised that the tense lines on Hanzo’s distant expression meant he was awaiting a response. He sighed inwardly.

“It’s not a problem. I only wish I could do something more. It... it’s infuriating to sit on the outside and see you so tormented on the inside. If I could take it all away, even for a short while...”

He had said more than he meant to. He surprised himself in the process. Hanzo had not moved. He hoped he had not injured the man’s pride. He felt like a child again, stumbling over mistakes of etiquette that were sure to be met with harsh reprimand.

He looked up as Hanzo stood.

“You have already given me much reprieve.” The shinobi said shortly. He retired indoors early.

Kuai dispersed the embers of the fire and rinsed the bowls. When he came inside he knelt by the shrine, separated from their sleeping space by a half wall. He waited until he heard his companions breath fall into a regular rhythm. He got up and moved quietly to his own bed. He sat and crossed his legs. He had already vowed to keep watch that night. This time he would be ready if he was needed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The naming conventions I've chosen are that those used in narration reflect the names the characters perceive themselves to be. This is the first chapter where Hanzo is referred to by his human name throughout the narration. For those wondering how much longer this peaceful atmosphere is going to last between these two - a violence warning for chapter 6! It will be updating tomorrow.


	6. Violence

Hanzo was puzzled when he awoke. The first thing he saw was Kuai Liang sitting bolt upright in bed, his head lolled to one-side as he slept. He passed this off as a Lin Kuei oddity and got up. His old enemy had done most of the preparation and necessary tasks over the last few days. He was beginning to feel like something of an inmate. He stretched and pushed open the door with his boot. Beyond was another cold, clear winter day. A startling blue sky was trying to cast its reflection onto the solid lake. He lit a fire in moments to chase away the stiff chilled cramps of the night. He resented that Kuai did not seem to feel the cold, it made him feel inadequate. He cast tea leaves straight into pot to warm with the water. He leaned back with arms behind his head, enjoying the weak rays of sun on his face.  
  
His brow furrowed as he heard a commotion indoors. The slat door banged open and Kuai came running out, glance lurching to all sides. On catching sight of Hanzo he stopped. Hanzo regarded him with sceptical eyes. Something like embarrassment crawled into the Lin Kuei’s cheeks. Kuai raised a hand and put on an expression like he was forgetting something. He hastily re-entered the shack.  
  
When he came back out he was dressed more sensibly. He sat down heavily next to Hanzo and would not look at him. Hanzo handed him food.  
  
“Today we should fight.”  
  
Kuai nearly dropped his bowl but caught it before it fell. He gave Hanzo such a look of confusion that the shinobi had to laugh.  
  
“I don’t mean to kill you. We should spar.”  
  
“Should we?” Kuai said darkly. He moved his chopsticks quickly as if afraid that some other mishap might cause him to lose his breakfast.  
  
“Combat can still the mind and bring greater awareness of oneself.”  
  
“I see.” Kuai did not sound like he saw.  
  
“You don’t want to fight me, Kuai Liang?” Hanzo said slyly, “I promise to go easy on you.”  
  
Kuai gave him an unamused hooded look from over his bowl.  
  
Hanzo ladled out the tea,  
  
“It will be a useful exercise,” he reasoned, “And besides, I want to see if I can still beat you without the fire at my command.”  
  
“Still? ”  
  
Hanzo smiled with a slight mischief,  
  
“Sounds like a challenge accepted to me.”  
  
“Hanzo, I don’t know if it is a good idea-”  
  
“It’s a great idea.” He drained his tea, got up and made for the hut entrance.  
  
“Not in your Shirai Ryu uniform.”  
  
That was said with just a little desperation. Hanzo frowned and shrugged.  
  
“As you wish.”  
  
–  
  
Hanzo had strapped a black belt of cloth about his middle and wound his hair up into a top knot. He was tying on his katana and tightening his kunai to his wrist when Kuai walked in. A part of Kuai had been holding out for the chance that a non-lethal spar might happen without weapons. Hanzo began wrapping his hands from elbow down to his fingertips. He clenched his hand experimentally when the first one was done. He looked up when he saw Kuai watching him.  
  
“Not a hint of yellow, Kuai Liang.”   
  
Kuai could hear the amused irony in his voice. He reluctantly matched Hanzo’s preparations. Hanzo stretched out one leg, shifted his weight and brought his other leg up, round over and down, hitting the floor hard. The crockery and shrine candle shook with the impact. Hanzo stood and flexed his arms over his head.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
“One moment.” Kuai fixed his arm guards on then nodded.  
  
They walked out over the lake ice and up onto the bank. The snow had piled up high during the night. Hanzo shifted his feet in it experimentally.  
  
“Not great odds for you.” Kuai gave.  
  
“Odds you’re going to need.” Their words came easily in this their most natural setting.  
  
Kuai placed a fist against his open palm and bowed. Hanzo kept his arms by his sides and returned the bow.  
  
Kuai leaned his weight back and pushed his foot behind, grounding his form and opening his palms. Hanzo kept a more upright stance but hunched his shoulders slightly and pulled his elbows in tucking his upper body into tight compact shape. Kuai saw his eyes change from ease into sharp focus and determination. There was no mask, no yellow uniform, and yet no mistaking that it was the Scorpion that stood before him and not Hanzo Hasashi.  
  
“Come then, Sub-Zero, I will beat you in your own home.”  
  
Kuai had just enough time to be concerned by the change in his name before Scorpion kicked the inside of his knee, slid forward, scissored his legs, wrapped them either side of his torso and flipped him straight into the snow. Kuai blinked flakes out of his face and turned as he felt Scorpion readjust to bring down a punch on him. Kuai got his knee between them reached a leg through the newly created space and hooked it over Scorpion’s neck. He used his knee as a pivot and twisted him off him. He used the precious moments gained to back out and get to his feet. Scoprion landed the throw and rolled out of it.  
  
“Getting careless, Grandmaster.” The only thing strange about the comment to Kuai was that it was not muffled through a mask. His frown set deep in his face and he put his mind to the fight.  
  
This time it was his turn to strike. He closed the distance between them with a high snap kick that distracted Scorpion just enough for him to get a good punch in straight to his gut, followed by an uppercut to his chin. Scorpion took them both with a grunt. Kuai expected him to be dazed so drew back for a slowed more powerful round punch. His opponent was ready however and dropped low, shooting a kick through Kuai’s ankle and returning an underhand punch to Kuai’s stomach. The grandmaster gasped and had to lean back to avoid a second punch. He used the movement to power a hammer fist straight down to the back of Scorpion’s head. The blow dropped him and Scorpion hit the floor, contorting himself with difficulty to roll out and away.  
  
They circled each other gasping clouds of hot air into the chill temperature.  
  
“Where’s your ice, Cyromancer? I can take it all, come on!”  
  
“Would you... shut up!”  
  
Kuai froze the ground beneath him and slid tackled his enemy. Scorpion was ready however, he sprung out the way and with the same momentum brought a high roundhouse kick driving down onto Kuai’s shoulders. Kuai was bowled over with the impact, he paused to take a breath but saw Scorpion leap. He more heard than saw the katana draw from his back. Kuai let his instinct dart him out the way and the katana struck snow. Scorpion returned the sword to its sheath but kept bowling forward in a continuous smooth flow. His knee took Kuai in the chin before Kuai had even righted himself. Kuai again heard the sound of steel he raised his arms to block and froze them into guards. The impact jolted Scorpion back. Kuai swung his ice heavy fists at Scorpion who had to take the defensive as the powerful blows swung one after the other. The close combat favoured Kuai, who even had the time to summon ice into two short blades. Scorpion blocked with the backs of his arms, arm-wraps taking the damage and flaying into shreds. Kuai hesitated when he saw a flash of concern on his opponent’s face. It was all Scorpion needed. He threw his kunai with immense speed straight up. The next moment Kuai looked he was gone. He blinked, startled, and looked up. Nothing. He let the ice recede from his arms. He was alone on the bank, the snow scuffed and brown where it had been kicked into the soil beneath. For a moment he wondered if the shinobi had somehow retained the ability to teleport.  
  
“Scorpion!” He shouted up at the forest.  
  
The wind ruffled through the trees sending whispers that obscured any give-away signs of the shinobi. Kuai shook his head in frustration. He pulled back his shoulders and sunk his weight into wider stance. He pushed his palms up and out, over his head and brought their heals together before him. He closed his eyes. He breathed in through his nose then slowly out through his mouth. The air that left his mouth winked with ice shards.  
  
There was absolute quiet.  
  
Kuai felt the air move. Scorpion came plummeting down from above ready to land the weight of a kick straight on top of him. Kuai side stepped with exceptional speed and forced his palms forward. A whirlwind of blizzard shot forth from his hands and froze a layer of ice over Scorpion, holding him solid. Kuai cracked the ice with a double blow to his chest and an elbow to his head. He closed a hand about his own fist, hooked it behind Scorpion’s neck, tugged him down and kneed him in the head. He released him and as his enemy started to straighten up he back fisted him in the face. This final blow topped him.  
  
Scorpion felt his head ringing and the hot taste of his own blood in his mouth. He span his legs around and propelled himself upright. He stood unsteadily, his body reeling. Sub-Zero was only a paces away from him. Scorpion bared his teeth and pulled his hand across his face. It came away red. He spat a globule of blood onto the snow and tilted his head. He wrapped his kunai chain about his fist to form a boxing glove. He beckoned Sub-Zero forward with one hand.  
  
“Just getting warmed up here.”  
  
“Really?” Sub-Zero was stepping easily toward him, hands already balled into fists, “Looked to me like the cold was getting to you.”  
  
“Very droll.” Scorpion kept his ground but spread his hands palms out defensively.  
  
“Yield if it is too much for you, Scorpion.”  
  
“The only thing that’s too much for me is your incessant voice. Stop talking and fight me!”  
  
Sub-Zero threw a punch straight to his head. Scorpion dodged out the way and turned as if to flee while at the same time pushing his leg back, covering the space between them without Sub-Zero’s awareness. He whirled round with a palm strike up to his opponent’s chin, and another to the side of Sub-Zero’s head so that it clapped over his ear. He used the placed hand to mark an elbow strike to his enemy’s head that jolted the whole body. Using the momentary stun to his advantage, he slipped his arm all the way round and took Sub-Zero into a headlock. He kicked his feet out from under him and took him down into the snow. He pulled the lock on tight about his throat, pushing the wrapped chain of his kunai up into his enemy’s windpipe. As he increased the pressure, Scorpion felt a sudden chill seep about him. He looked down and saw that instead of fighting to free the lock, Sub-Zero had his palms flat down in the snow. A fast growing sheen of ice was spreading out from his fingers. Scorpion released him and darted away just in time to dodge his limbs being trapped solid in ice. Sub-Zero kept freezing the snow until a wide circle of ice was spreading from him in all directions. He got up slowly when the circle was over ten feet across.   
  
“It’s over, Scorpion. You cannot hope to beat me on the ice.”  
  
Scorpion eyed the deadly arena and prowled its limits.  
  
“Perhaps... but what if you get over here.” He threw his kunai so violently that Sub-Zero did not even see it coming. The steel pierced him in the shoulder and forced a cry from the assassin’s lips. Scorpion had pulled the chain tight and begun to haul his opponent across the ice. Sub-Zero collapsed to one knee hissing in pain. Invigorated by the victory within his grasp Scorpion pulled harder. This time his enemy yelped and his hand went to the foreign weapon in his body to try and release it. His other hand pressed onto the ice, trying to take his body weight.  
  
“Hah.... Hanzo...!”  
  
Scorpion shook his head as if free of a dream and let the taught of the chain go. Kuai dropped gasping to the floor.  
  
“Kuai...?” He said uncertainly, stepping to the edge of the ice ring.  
  
“L... leave me.” Kuai struggled to turn his back to him and sit up.  
  
Hanzo tried to peer round his bulk to gauge the damage.  
  
Kuai threw back his head and clashed his breath through his teeth as he drew the steel tip out of his shoulder. He cast it from him. It clattered against the ice.  
  
“Are you alright?”  
  
“I said leave me, Hasashi!”  
  
Hanzo backed off, the offending chain rattling behind him and dragging a thin line of blood across the snow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun. In keeping with the overall tone I made this fight a little more realistic than an MK kombat. I spent a while watching kata and bunkai of the styles the characters moves are derived from - I took notes on these as well as watching character combos (mostly from MK9) to try and get a feel for the different ways in which they fight and to get a little more flow and realism into this. Sub Zero fans can rest assured that this fight would have gone very different if Kuai Liang didn't care about his opponent so much. I was actually pretty surprised at how many Chinese martial arts influence Scorpion's style, but I guess it makes sense given the overall movement they wanted the character to have. I could talk about this all day so I'll stop now. Message me if you want links to any of the sources I was studying.


	7. Pride

It was evening.  
  
Hanzo sat alone on the outdoor platform beside the lethargic crackle of an ageing fire. A pure moon moved in and out of view as fast scudding clouds swarmed about it. The wind was picking up and readying for a storm. Hanzo prodded the fire with his foot. It snapped and reluctant flames danced up to lick around a pail of water. Within were thin strips he had cut up. They had been boiling steadily for the last few minutes. The heat was withering though and he had no desire to go inside for more wood. He took the pail out of the fire and tested the temperature. He held it by its handle and stood. He paused before the door. He lowered his head and passed a tongue over his lower lip. He sighed and knocked. There was no reply. He turned his back to the door post. He put his palm to his face. He leaned his head back against the frame and stretched out his hand to rap half-heartedly with the back of his knuckles.  
  
“Kuai Liang. May I enter?”  
  
Still silence. Hanzo set down the pail on the floor. He folded his arms, bowed his head and waited. For the first time in a long time, his mind did not wander back to past angers, but lingered injured in the present. A man who had showed him nothing but patience, honour and unlooked for kindness sat within, nursing injuries from a fight he had not wish to partake in. Hanzo had the sudden urge to punch something very hard. The bruises on his knuckles reminded him that he already had, and that someone else was paying the price for it.  
  
“Hanzo.”  
  
He turned quickly and pressed his ear to the wood.  
  
“Yes? May I enter?”  
  
Silence again. He remained alert and waiting.  
  
“You may.” It sounded like it was said with difficulty.  
  
Hanzo nearly forgot the pail. He bent quickly to retrieve it, spilling the lukewarm water as he did. He pulled open the door and entered. Kuai had his back to him and was kneeling before the candlelight of the shrine. His upper torso was bare and he held a rag to his shoulder.  
  
“I... boiled more water and bandages.”  
  
“Thank you. Leave them over there.” Kuai gestured with his good hand.   
  
Hanzo did so, then lingered. He could feel the Lin Kuei’s irritation at his choice to do so. He knelt abruptly and bowed his head.  
  
“Kuai Liang, I wish to apologise for my actions. They were unacceptable. It was most base and dishonourable that I should inflict such an injury upon my host. You have been model and irreproachable in your conduct and done much to redeem your family’s name. I on the other hand have brought only shame upon myself.”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Hanzo looked up. He shifted forward in a kneeling step until he was perpendicular to his companion. Kuai dipped his hand into the newly warmed pail, drew out a rag and squeezed. Hanzo could see a raw thick, bloodied gash between his collar bone and shoulder. The gouge within was torn deep and flesh was flayed about the exit point where the kunai point had tugged and twisted in the layers of muscle. He looked away.  
  
“Hold this here, please.” Kuai was clipped in his words. Hanzo slowly reached and held the warm cloth to the wound he had made.  
  
Kuai unrolled a wad of material revealing a number of small tools. He drew a needle from it and a bundle of folded thread. He began to unravel the thread with difficulty, trying not to move his  injured arm as he sought to afix it to the needle. Hanzo leaned forward gently and took the needle and thread from him. He picked up Kuai’s hand and pressed it to the shoulder wound in place of his own. He threaded the needle and knotted it. He removed Kuai’s hand and carefully cleaned about the hole. He set down the rag and saw Kuai tense.  
  
“Relax.” He said and pushed the needle through the skin. Kuai’s breath escaped through his teeth in an explosive hiss. Hanzo felt it hit him cold and collect ice fractals on his collar. He leaned in closer and pricked the needle in again. He wound it back and forth, pausing every time Kuai tensed in pain. Slowly he drew the flesh shut and pulled the thread tight. When his task was done he knotted the new end of the thread. He carefully cleaned the remaining area of blood, then reached into the bucket for a new wad of cloth. He wrung it out and laid it warm against Kuai’s skin. He picked up Kuai’s hand and laid his fingers over the newly sealed wound. He used this as a pinion to slowly wind the material around. He looped it over the shoulder and diagonally across his chest to hold the bandage in place. He pulled aside Kuai’s hand and finished the task with a careful tenderness he had not thought himself capable of since cradling his young son in his arms. When he finished he shuffled back in his kneeling step, retrieved the pail and bloodied cloth and left to dispose of it outdoors.  
  
The night air spun with fierce snow. As he threw out the old water part of it froze. He set down the bucket and breathed heat back into his hands. He pulled open the door, stepped gratefully within and barred it shut behind him. The wind rattled it angrily and cold drafts snapped through the cracks. Kuai sat with his Lin Kuei blue tunic draped over his hunched shoulders. He sat staring into the thin candlelight. The hut shook with another extreme gust. Hanzo moved to the side of the hut and knelt again. Each new rumble of the gale set candle flames trembling. He was troubled by the heavy slope of Kuai’s posture, as if weighed by a great burden. As he sat in silence he could feel the ache and prick of bruises settling more firmly into his body. He tested his split lip with his tongue, there was a jagged edge on one of his teeth as well. He winced at the slight exposure of a nerve. His nose was at a slightly strange angle – he had forgotten how irritating the thing was, he touched his fingers to it and felt a mild crick in the bone. He quickly replaced his hand in his lap when Kuai spoke.  
  
“Was Bi-Han a good man?”  
  
Hanzo stared at him. Kuai was still turned away.  
  
“You don’t need me to answer that for you.”  
  
This entire situation was becoming very uncomfortable for him. He tried to remind himself how he managed to end up deep in Lin Kuei territory, aiding their grandmaster tend to injuries he himself had inflicted, whilst telling him of the brother he had murdered.  
  
“Actually, I... I do.”   
  
Hanzo was quiet. There was a strange uncertainty in Kuai’s voice that seemed very unlike his usual stoic, steady self.  
  
“You see I...” The Lin Kuei assassin was looking deep into the recesses of the shrine, “I saw what I wanted to see. I think I idolised him. And... I wonder if I ever knew him at all.”  
  
“I am beginning to think that there are some losses we need to grieve, but ultimately move on from.” Hanzo thought of Kana’s face. She was at rest, he realised, in a way that he was not.  
  
“It’s not... it’s not like that. You knew him. Tell me what he was like.”  
  
“I knew him as an enemy, Kuai, it is not the same.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
Hanzo steeped his hands together and frowned.  
  
“Bi-Han was... efficient.” Kuai turned to look at him. There was such sadness in his blue eyes that Hanzo quickly continued, “One of the best the Lin Kuei ever trained and fiercely loyal to them. In respect to that loyalty and his dedication to his duty – he was an honourable man.”  
  
“But was he good?”  
  
“He was an assassin, Kuai Liang, like you and I. He was uncompromising and good at it. That’s bound to get to someone after a while.”  
  
“He was brutal and remorseless, wasn’t he.” It was not a question.  
  
“We have all done terrible things. His memory is honoured by the things you have done for Earthrealm in his name.”  
  
“Sometimes I think it was a mistake to take his name – that it was presumptuous of me, that I was never worthy of it.”  
  
“If anything it is the name that is not worthy of you.”  
  
“That’s not the way he saw it.”  
  
Hanzo blinked. Kuai stiffened on realising his own words. Then he sighed heavily. With difficulty he turned himself so that he was sitting opposite him. He looked pained.  
  
“I... do not like to speak of it. Forgive me that I did not do so earlier. Quan Chi resurrected my brother.” Kuai tensed, as if expecting some violent response. Hanzo’s eyes were wide.  
  
“Resur-... Bi-Han?” He leaned forward, “Why did you not tell me!?”  
  
“Hanzo, I-”  
  
“This is excellent! Raiden can free him as he did me! I can finally settle this between us! His death has weighed so heavily on me since I discovered the truth of Quan Chi’s treachery. When did this happen? I do not recall him in the Netherrealm during my servitude there.”  
  
Kuai shook his head and was grimly silent.  
  
“Tell me. I need to know.”  
  
“You know that the resurrection process is different for everyone... That Quan Chi makes revenants he can control...”  
  
“I’d say I know this better than most. Get on with it, Kuai.”  
  
“Well, it... disproportionately affects those who in life are corrupted by vices that Quan Chi can manipulate. For you in your grief and loss – he made of you a revenant burning for vengeance. And... Bi-Han...” He looked away, “If Bi-Han was ever the person I thought he was, he certainly is not in death.” He pressed a palm to the wound in his shoulder and bowed his head. “The creature you knew as Noob Saibot...”  
  
“What? That?! That’s Bi-Han? That’s not possible. I’ve worked with Saibot, I would have recognised him. At the very least he would have said something.”  
  
Kuai shook his head,  
  
“I’m not so sure he would. He does not fight his undead state as you did. He... revels in it. He does not care for the things he cared for during life. Only shortly after he was resurrected he tried to kill me. There was an indifference to him – an emptiness.”  
  
“The Netherrealm holds one’s reason to ransom. You cannot know that he is lost.”  
  
“Hanzo, I know, believe me. He-”  
  
“I must believe he can be saved!” Hanzo had stood as he said this. There was anger in his voice he realised. He calmed himself and looked down at Kuai. “Else it is my fault twice over that you have lost your brother. And I have sent him to a fate worse than death. And you to a place worse than grief.”  
  
Kuai Liang struggled to stand. Hanzo put a restraining hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I will find Quan Chi, and before I kill him, I will make him restore Bi-Han. I will persuade Raiden to help me and in return offer any services I can to Earthrealm.”  
  
Kuai looked away again,  
  
“I know you mean well, and I am thankful that-”  
   
“I was going to let Bi-Han live.”  
  
Kuai looked at him. Hanzo could see weary confusion in the younger man’s face.  
  
“I had an agreement with Raiden. I was to let Bi-Han live... and in exchange he would petition the Elder Gods to return my clan to life.” He turned his back on the shrine and walked a few paces. “Not a day passes when I don’t wish I could have...” He clenched his fists and brought them up. He looked at them as though they were not his own. “I did hold back. Quan Chi came to me and commanded me to finish him. I refused. Then that... sorcerer summoned visions before me – played on my mind – made me relive the memory of their slaughter – even showed me Bi-Han murdering my Kana, my Jubei...” He hammered his fists against the wall. He tried to regulate his breathing, “I’m not proud of what I’ve done. Not just to him. To them also. So consumed by hatred that I let vengeance come before a chance to let them life again. Even as a revenant, I thought I did all I did for my clan – for my family. Killing Bi-Han was the first time I realised that I killed because I  wanted it. For me. Not for anyone else. That I was utterly devoid of honour. It must seem foolish to everyone else – the hellspawn revenant who thought he still had honour.”  
  
“As I said before, Quan Chi is responsible, not you. He-”  
  
“Quan Chi is not responsible. I am! He might have led me to the water, but I...”  Hanzo stood in the middle of the room and beat his fist to his heart – his eyes piercing Kuai’s as he enunciated, “I drank. I did this. I killed them all. Do you not understand why they still haunt me, Kuai Liang? It is true I wish Quan Chi dead, but it is not his blood that must be shed for the price of their lives. It was not he who killed them. It was me.”  
  
Kuai stood slowly and with difficulty. He looked at Hanzo.  
  
“You were right. There are some losses we need to grieve, but ultimately move on from. If we try to do right by the dead, we only destroy ourselves. And what do the dead know? What do they know of how we suffer on their behalf? You have shown me this day that we must live for the living, Hanzo Hasashi. Now you need only take your own advice.”   
  
Hanzo shook his head in disbelief and frustration. He was about to object when Kuai reached an arm to him,  
  
“Help me.”  
  
Hanzo helped him to his bed and saw that he was comfortable.  
  
“Thank you, my friend.”   
  
Hanzo sat back in his own blankets pensively. After a moment he said,  
  
“I am sorry about Quan Chi turning your brother. I cannot imagine how... difficult it must have been when he attacked you.”  
  
“It cannot be helped. I don’t suppose he’ll bother me any more. Not now that I have a Netherrealm guardian of my own.” Kuai Liang sounded amused. He shut his eyes.  
  
“I am not guarding you.” Hanzo gave back quickly with a little of his old hot-headed retaliation, “You’re the one that asked for help-”  
  
He stopped wasting his breath when he saw the steady rhythm Kuai’s chest rose and fell to. He sat long in the darkness thinking over all the words that had passed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What ship? That’s not a ship it’s your imagination. These two morons certainly don’t think it’s a ship. I hope I succeed in passing on some of the infuriating dynamic of their relationship that currently plagues my sorry self. Also managed to resist putting ‘finish him’ in italics. Because that would really not be appropriate for the tone. Or would it? Mortal Kombat is such a bizarre world.


	8. Ice Melts Fire

The next day Kuai Liang began talking of preparations to return to the Lin Kuei temple. Hanzo would not hear of it. He straight up told him that Kuai was not going anywhere in his present condition. Kuai teased that he did not realise he must have his ‘guardian’s’ permission to leave. Hanzo, predictably, did not see the amusing side of this, and still refused. Kuai resigned himself to at least a day or two’s more rest.  
  
Kuai spent much of it meditating and practising slow kata on the lake of ice. Hanzo occupied himself with cutting wood and hauling it across the ice. He built all the fires, prepared all the food and fished though holes cut in the lake. He was fascinated by Kuai Liang’s forms, so like those he practised himself, and yet so different. Kuai moved with the ice beneath him as though they were one and the same. The slow flowing movements of his arms showered keen frosts that glittered through the air as diamond rain. The stiff pain of his injury was all but gone when his feet slid across ice with perfect control. Hanzo saw that there was an affinity and peace to Kuai’s unity with his element – something very different from the pact he had made with fire to burn within him.  
  
Hanzo enjoyed the distracting manual labour. When he ran out of tasks he would practise his own forms with a vicious vigilance. He practised kata empty hand, then with katana, then a chain weapon form. He ran them all back to back until the sweat shook down his back. He bathed in icy waters and would only then retire to shiver before a large fire.  
  
Kuai often invited him to meditate with him, but Hanzo always had an excuse ready. Kuai let this go, but on the evening of the next day pressed him on this.  
  
“Hanzo, why will you not sit and be still with me?”  
  
“You know why.”  
  
“But... you have done so much to free yourself from the grasp of your past over the last few days.”  
  
“It’s for precisely this reason that I do not want to join you. When I am occupied my mind does not linger on the past.”  
  
Kuai sighed,  
  
“This is true, but neither does it let you confront it, and be at peace with it.”  
  
“I am not ready.”  
  
“I think you would be surprised.”  
  
“I do not want to be surprised. I want to be ready. I will deal with peace when I come to it.”  
  
“Hanzo,” Kuai said gently and with endearment that surprised Hanzo, “Peace must be made. Our time in this haven, away from the world, is limited. While I am here and can help you, will you not try?”  
  
Hanzo looked uneasy,  
  
“Perhaps, in a moment. First, I must-” Hanzo caught a look from Kuai that was not about to settle for procrastination. A familiar dark frown formed on Hanzo’s brow and he relented. They seated themselves on the platform beneath the brim of the shrine’s upcurled roof.  
  
“Now,” Said Kuai, “Do not try to forget. Do not try to remember. Do not try to think. Only be.”  
  
Rumours of snowflakes increased in the cool air. They pondered the space between the two old enemies in a slow turning serenade. The cold curled down the nape of Hanzo’s tunic and he shivered. His frown set deeper and with it, ancient concerns coiled and collected in his chest.  
  
“Let the thoughts that fly into your mind turn as though on a current and pass back out from you. Know them, but do not let them control you.” Kuai’s voice was gentle and slow like cold water that is sluggish with ice floats. Hanzo closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth. His features darkened as bitter remorse clawed itself up from the places he had been suppressing. His mouth twitched and curled. The silence that spawned in the space after Kuai Liang’s voice was rigged with unsettled scores and hatreds. His open palms balled into fists. Only when he heard Kuai’s voice again did he breathe out and try again.  
  
“The things you wish to become – keep these close to you – these you must strive for and may direct your passion toward – there is no chasing that from one like you. But the rest – the things that hurt you – they are composite. Take them apart. Your fear of deception, your desperate need for vengeance, your guilt, your grief, your violence, your pride – they are all one part love and and one part hatred. Let the hatred pass. The love may remain – hold it dear to you. It will hurt. It will be a great sorrow to you – agony even. But it will not be empty, and it will not control you.”  
  
Hanzo’s eyes were shut but his teeth ground together.  
  
“I do not want to loose them. My vengeance is all I have of them.”  
  
“That is not so, Hanzo Hasashi. You carry them with you. You grieve them because in caring for them you gave some of yourself to them, and they to you. Your pain is because part of you has died with them. But so also does some of them, and their care, live on in you. Will you dishonour their love by living only for death?”  
  
“What of Bi-Han? I have wronged him and I cannot take that back.”  
  
“In killing Bi-Han you killed also a small part of all those who loved him. I forgive you for this, Hanzo. But, you also, must forgive those who inflicted pain upon you.”  
  
“I cannot forgive Quan Chi! I will not. He persists to torment others and whilst he lives I cannot rest.”  
  
“At present, it is not Quan Chi that I am thinking of.”  
  
“Who then?”  
  
Kuai was silent. Hanzo fidgeted in frustration. Kuai took pity on him.  
  
“Yourself, Hanzo.”  
  
Kuai did not know what passed for Hanzo in the time that followed just after this. He did not know if his words reached him, if he knew peace, if he came to terms with any of the myriad burdens that plagued his soul. He did not ask either, for there are some things that must be done alone. He saw shadows pass across his face, as if the Shirai Ryu warrior saw scenes played out on the others side of those close eyes. At times he tensed and at others he relaxed. At times he seemed to be in great pain, and at others seemed to accept this fact without suffering as a consequence. In one moment his hands would ball into such tight, white fists, that Kuai almost expected them to blaze into fire as they had done of old. Moments like these moved on however, and Hanzo would reopen his hands, and breathe more freely again.  
  
Kuai sat with him through all of this, silent but present. The snow made light blankets all about them, and after a while even consented to cover them also. It fell upon Kuai’s folded knees and cupped palms. It never melted when it touched his skin but rested there. It clouded him in pure white, joining him to everything around him in a peaceful unity.   
  
The snow melted on Hanzo, as if recalling the fire in his veins. It would not settle on his shifting shoulders or tensing muscles. When it melted though, it ran as quiet water, and moved down his face as though it were tears.  
  
They did not speak the rest of that evening, but instead performed every task they needed two in dual silence, each knowing what needed to be done, and fulfilling it.  
  
.  
  
The next day when Kuai got up, a little of the cramp of his mending muscles had subsided. He slowly rotated the joint and moved his arm this way and that. He checked the wound and saw it had a new dressing upon it. This troubled him. He felt a prick of anxiety in the back of his throat at the vulnerability he must have been exposed to. His thoughts skipped to the idea of Scorpion, whose hands he had suffered at countless times, alone and unchecked next to his unconscious form. He pulled on his robes and slipped on his boots. When he stepped outside the fire was not lit and no tea and breakfast awaited him. Hanzo sat in complete stillness, the charcoal shades of his hair and clothes a stark contrast to the complete still empty white of the world beyond. Kuai looked at his face. It was stern and focussed, but controlled and free of anger. Something stilled in Kuai on watching him. His concerns fell away and he decided to leave the matter of his wound dressing. Instead, he knew it was time to bring up leaving again. A strange thing happened however. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Hanzo, with eyes shut and limbs unmoving, spoke.  
  
“I did not wish the life of the Shirai Ryu upon my son. I intended to stand between him and the assassin’s path when the time came. As my father did for me when he forbade me from joining.” Kuai looked over at him. Fierce dark eyes opened and set Kuai with their usual intensity, “I am glad my son did not grow up to follow in my footsteps. I would rather wish death upon him than to follow my fate.”  
  
Kuai shifted uncomfortably and reached a hand automatically to the shoulder the kunai had shredded,  
  
“You’re life has had some rather unique and unpleasant caveats to it, Hanzo. Being Shirai Ryu is only a small part of that.”  
  
“No. It is the source of my troubles. The pride it set in me, the feuds I inherited from it... It is inevitable that my son would have taken on that mantle also. Perhaps he would have sought to kill you, Kuai Liang. Probably under easily-manipulated but ultimately misled circumstances, much like his father.”  
  
“Well,” Kuai was still half asleep and worn down both from his injury and nearly a week of Hanzo’s abrasive company, “As it is, I am alive and well and here to tell his father stand up and look his new chance for life in the face instead of always brooding over a past that is gone.”  
  
“I do not brood!” And like that the peace of meditation was folded away into stubborn arms.  
  
“Hanzo Hasashi.” Kuai said matter of factly, “You are brooding about not brooding.”  
  
Hanzo glared at him.  
  
“Now, tell me straight,” Kuai sat down heavily beside him and leaned his back against wood of the hut, “When we depart this place, what will you do?”  
  
“I w-”  
  
“And don’t talk about Quan Chi. I mean in the long term. With your life.”  
  
Hanzo scowled at him.  
  
“I will think on that when I come to it.”  
  
“Think on it now, Hanzo, so that you remember why you live and so that your vengeance does not reclaim you again.”  
  
Hanzo ground his teeth in irritation. He looked away and thought for some time though.  
  
“I will come back here. And pledge my life to protect you. In recompense for the murder of one brother, I will protect the other.”  
  
Kuai blinked.  
  
“That... won’t be necessary. I am Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei now. I have many followers, and few enemies now that the cyber initiative has been shut down... and now that my nemesis is no longer hell bent on killing me.”  
  
Hanzo was unimpressed.  
  
“My honour demands it.”  
  
“You have your life returned to you. Rebuild it, please! Live again!”  
  
Hanzo was quiet again, this time for a long while. Finally he looked up and a light was ablaze in his eyes,  
  
“You are right. After I have killed Quan Chi, I will rebuild. I will rebuild the Shirai Ryu in honour of my fallen kin. I shall bring back our tradition and make it strong enough to rival even the Lin Kuei’s power. The world will know our name again and fear to cross us.”  
  
“Hanzo, that is not what I had in mind-”  
  
“And I shall do this in addition to swearing a personal oath to protect you, Kuai Liang. If I hear of any person laying a hand on you, they will answer to me. They will know that they have crossed Scorpion and they will know that vengeance will be mine!”  
  
Kuai shook his head in resolute exasperation.  
  
.  
  
He knew Hanzo was loathe to leave this place. He could see it in the reluctance of his movements and his stubborn glares just tipped with fear. He did not object this time however and Kuai had them collect up all their belongings. When all was made ready, Kuai turned to him. All Kuai Liang’s thoughts and words were prepared just then and on his lips. He had comfort ready, reprimand, gracious thanks, requests, unspoken promises and eager plans. He opened his mouth to speak them.  
  
“You’re not taking a pack, by the way.” Hanzo Hasashi cut through his intentions, “There is no way you’re carrying anything. Your inferior Lin Kuei strength needs time to build up. Leave the heavy lifting to a Shirai Ryu. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. I hope I broke your hearts. Or at least made you tear your hair out. They might be the same thing anyway. They probably are for Kuai Liang. I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments, even if they’re very brief :) 
> 
> In early Egyptian monasticism it was said that bad thoughts fly to our minds from the outside and tempt us to dislodge what is naturally good within us. They believed that we are like rusty metal which is clouded over with the bad things we choose to be and do, but that by removing these from us, a natural gleam is restored within us and we may be cleaned of the dark things that cling to us.
> 
> One of the names for this process was κάθαρσις – catharsis.

**Author's Note:**

> Original comments and story can be found at ff .net: https://www.fanfiction.net/~oneshotrevolt
> 
> Many thanks for reading. Comments and critique welcome, especially from those wanting to point out any MK canon flaws. I'm being fairly loose with it, but will try to take on board any suggestions. Inspiration for this story comes from many places but I am most indebted to the film Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring and the comic series Lone Wolf and Cub.
> 
> Characters belong to Ed Boon, John Tobias et al.


End file.
